


Christmas Just Isn't the Same if Someone Doesn't Get Maimed

by natodiangelo



Category: Gintama
Genre: Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, gintama secret santa 2017, normal gintama humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: The snow crunches beneath Kagura's boots as they trudge along. “Why did Gin-chan have to send us away?” She grumbles, kicking at the snow. Her foot hits a hidden rock, sending it flying through a nearby window. “That asshole.”





	Christmas Just Isn't the Same if Someone Doesn't Get Maimed

**Author's Note:**

> written for exquisiteshit on tumblr for the gintama secret santa 2017! this is the second year in a row i've participated in the secret santa and it was a lot of fun!
> 
> background kyuutae and ginhiji but neither are that prominent so i didnt tag them

 

It’s cold.

“It’s cold,” Kagura complains, and the words come out in a puff of white mist. “Colder than Shinpachi’s love life.”

Shinpachi shivers beside her. “I’m honestly too cold to disagree.”

“Exactly.” The snow crunches beneath her boots as they trudge along. “Why did Gin-chan have to send us away?” She grumbles, kicking at the snow. Her foot hits a hidden rock, sending it flying through a nearby window. “That asshole.”

“Would you rather be there when Hijikata comes over?” Shinpachi asks, straight man that he is, and she agrees, truth be told, but she’d rather freeze to death out here in the endless plains of snow than admit it to him.

“He should prioritize us,” She retorts. “He’d rather **** and **** with that mayo bastard than spend time with us.”

“Don’t be vulgar, Kagura.” Shinpachi scolds. She kicks snow in his direction, but it falls short. She punches him in the gut instead. As he coughs and tries to recover his breath she continues.

“It’s cold,” She reiterates. “Colder than Gin-Chan’s heart.”

“At least we’re almost there,” Shinpachi wheezes.

Kagura skips ahead of him.

In all honesty, she doesn’t mind being sent off to Boss Lady’s house. Gintoki is stinky and crass and Boss Lady’s so much more refined, a breath of fresh air compared to her normal stuffy life. But some gross, sweaty, old men need to be insulted, and Gintoki’s nothing if not a gross, sweaty old man, and so she humbly put aside her own excitement in favor of the greater good.

She arrives far before Shinpachi, since she spends her free time doing things that matter like radio exercises and yelling at the news lady instead of who-knows-what virgin thing all day.

“And that no-good, disgusting, despicable, useless, bastardly old man just sent you away?” Otae asks her, astounded, and Kagura nods solemnly, carefully wiping a crystal tear from the clear, soft skin beneath her eye. Otae gives her a sympathetic look, and sets a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, and says in a sympathetic voice, “How fucking dare he?”

“Who does he think he is?” Kagura agrees. “Sending his own two children into the endless torrent of an everlasting winter just so he can ****?”

Otae shakes her head. “If you weren’t such an amazingly strong, independent woman I would wonder how you survived.”

“The burning flame of my hatred for no-good, disgusting, despicable, useless, bastardly old men was the only thing keeping me warm.” Kagura admits, and Otae wraps her arms carefully around Kagura’s shoulders, and Kagura takes in a deep breath of floral perfume, so cleansing to her nose that has long since smelled nothing but the dirty ass of a MADAO.

Someone knocks lightly on the paper door, and a moment later it slides back to reveal Kyuubei, long, black hair pulled back into a careful bun. “Sorry to interrupt,” They say, voice careful and pleasant, “But Shinpachi has just arrived.”

“Kyuubei,” Otae says lovingly. “I love you, and you know this – I always have.” Kyuubei nods. “But this – this right now, this special time between me and dearest Kagura – this is between us women, where we can rid ourselves of the stink of crusty men and revitalize between us an aura of loving peace. Tell Shinpachi not to bother us.”

Kyuubei nods again, and the door slides closed.

 

Gintoki turns the page.

_Smack. Punch. Bam. Crash. Intelligible screaming._

He turns the page again.

 

Kagura sends the cookie cutter through the dough with all the strength of twenty five circus elephants that have secretly been trained to assassinate the president when he leaves the safe confines of his home for a day of fun and childlike excitement. She pulls the plastic cutter away and looks at the snowman shaped outline left on the dough.

“How cute,” She says. Next to her, Shinpachi cuts star shapes into the dough.

“Making cookies like this really reminds me of when I was young,” Shinpachi says, and Kagura immediately tunes him out, anticipating a long, drawn out recollection. She doesn’t particularly care about how motherly Otae was even at a young age, or how they got flour everywhere, or how they accidentally burned the cookies, and she especially doesn’t care when Otae and Shinpachi laugh about it together.

She _does_ care, however, when Otae takes the tray of cookie dough and puts it in the oven to cook for 12 to 15 minutes at 175°C (350°F).

Otae wipes down the counters as she timer steadily counts down. She sweeps. Cabinets closed. Eggs and flour put away. The protean void of darkness is moved to the side of the fridge to retrieve milk.

“Would anyone like hot chocolate?” She asks sweetly, as the void screeches against the closing fridge door.

 

The doorbell rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“Get off your lazy ass and open the goddamn door for me or I’ll break it down myself.”

 

The fireplace crackles pleasantly. Outside, snowflakes float down and settle softly on the already white blanketed ground. Fairy lights twinkle across the room.

Then, the fire goes out in a cloud of smoke.

“What the fuck?” Kagura articulates.

“What happened?” Shinpachi asks.

From the smoke a figure emerges, only a hazy outline in the dim, foggy room.

“Who the hell is that?” Kagura asks. In reply, a deep, bellowing laugh echoes across the room.

“Who am I?” it repeats. “Why, I am the happiness of children. I am compassion and generosity. I am the savior of this poor country and the one that holds everything you wish-“ The rumble of their voice is cut off as they cough.

“Please get out of my house.” Otae asks.

“I-“ Another cough. “I come bearing gifts!”

“Leave.”

“Do you know who I am?!”

“An intruder.”

“No! I am the happiness of children, compassion and genera-“

Otae moves, and Kagura is only barely able to keep up with the blur of her body across the room. The person yelps, then falls to the floor in a lifeless heap.

“Kyuubei,” Otae calls, voice refreshingly sweet. “Be a dear and turn on the light for me.”

“Of course.”

Kagura approaches Otae and pokes the figure with her foot. “It is dead?”

“My, I hope so. It’s no good to have pests in the house.”

Light fills the room, and suddenly the figure is given shape. Long hair cascades out from a Santa hat. A large bag spills nmaibo across the floor. Kagura can smell the distinct tang of gun powder in the air.

She flashes back to previous winters, with other stinky old men attempting to gain access to this welcome warm haven.

“Madao.”

“Do you know this man?” Otae asks her, and she nods solemnly.

“He’s a dickhamster like Gintoki.”

“I see.” Otae’s eyes twinkle with the reflection of the fairy lights, and for a moment she appears to be aflame; a goddess above the world, beyond beauty and human impulse, reading herself to inflict just retribution upon humanity.

She kicks Katsura in the side and sends him flying into the wall.

 

“Hey, nicotine bastard, would you make some more popcorn?”

“Yorozuya asshole, get up and make it yourself.”

“You dick, I thought you loved me.”

“Make your own goddamn popcorn.”

 

It’s late enough that it’s become early; the wee hours of the morning bringing forth fog and shadows. Otae and Kyuubei retired to bed earlier, and Kagura is working up the energy to get up herself.

“Kagura,” Shinpachi says from beside her on the couch. “Do you think Santa is real?”

“Stupid glasses,” She replies fondly. “Your Santa is still passed out over there. Go kick in him the balls and see if he’s real.”

“Not Katsura,” Shinpachi clarifies with a shake of his head. “An actual Santa, out there in the world somewhere. Someone who spreads joy and happiness. Does someone like that really exist?”

“Not for despicable, no-good, dirty virgins like you.” She stands, stretches, and begins walking to her room.

“I can’t say I agree,” Shinpachi pushes up his glasses. “But I hope he does exist.

“Merry Christmas, Kagura.”

“Die, you glasses wearing human.” She says, which of course, deep in her heart, means “You, too, you glasses wearing human.”


End file.
